Icebergs and other Mishaps
by roxy189
Summary: A fanfic that follows Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes on the RMS Titanic as they hunt down a mysterious man maned M ...
1. Chapter 1: The Great Ship

The first thing I saw when I woke up the morning as John, who was letting himself into our apartment, hands full of grocery bags and an envelope in his mouth. I pushed myself into a sitting position, but when I did so I experienced a strong head rush, enough to send me falling back onto the bed again. I let out a moan.

"Come on Sherlock! Get up! You don´t expect me to pity you, do you? You're the one who drank himself silly last night!"

"Oh please John, will you cut it out!"

"I\m sorry, Sherlock, but we can't afford to waste time! I've got us a new case, and a good one."

"What! Is it murder? Finally, a good murder case" I leapt out of bed and reached for my dressing gown.

"Well, not exactly, Sherlock. I mean, it's a case, but there hasn't been a murder yet." He began to unpack the groceries. I walked up to the table, a little defeated.

"Oh, cheer up, Sherlock. I'll fill you in in a second. You'd better get dressed, we're leaving tomorrow."

"Leaving? For where?"

"A sea voyage. The Titanic"

"But -"

"A Mr. Graston contacted me today and said he needed our assistance. According to what he told me, a man raped and tried to murder his wife, Angelica, a month ago, and has not been seen since the incident. However, he is led to believe that this man will be sailing on the Titanic the same time his wife is, and he wants us to keep an eye on things He's provided us with the tickets, they're in the envelope there."

"Well, I suppose there could be some excitement involved." I began to inspect the tickets. "And first class always helps, they probably have good brandy and-"

"Sherlock, please promise me you won't drink too much on this trip. It's simply unbearable. You weren't made to be a drunkard! Did you know that last night you were-"

"John, my dear fellow, as you said, we have n time to waste."

* * *

As we approached the boat, I couldn't help but gaze in amazement. It was certainly spectacular, and the people milling about fascinated me.

"So John, who exactly are we looking for?"

"Long black beard, piercing eyes, slender stature .. oh, and he walks with a limp. His name is M something or other, but I've forgotten."

I turned it over in my mind. M, M, well, maybe it would come to me later, after a cigar and a little brandy.

"Welcome aboard Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson."

Wait, I know that voice.

"Lestrade! Can't I go anywhere without you trailing me?"

"Actually, I'm um- here for the fishing." He gave a wry smile.

"What a load of bullocks that is. The fishing! The bloody fishing! Did anyone else hear this man?"

"Sherlock, let's not get uptight."

"Well, I best be leaving you two to your arguments. I'll be seeing you later, Sherlock." Lestrade walked away with his fishing pole in one hand and suitcase in the other.

"Psst. What kind of a man does he think he is. Bloody fishing."

In my rage, I tried my best to remain calm. My mind should be focused on this mysterious man and his evil deeds, with or without Lestrade.


	2. Chapter 2: Close but not close enough

Later that day, when John was out on the first class Promenade getting some air, and after much difficulty, I snuck some brandy into my room. I promised myself that I would only drink a glass or two, but by the time John returned to the room the whole bottle was empty and I was throwing up in the bathroom.

"SHERLOCK!" John came into the room, saw the smashed brandy bottle, and ran into the bathroom. He was seething with rage.

"What is it-" I paused as my stomach lurched.

"I thought you told me you wouldn't drink too much on this trip! How am I supposed to go to dinner with you looking like … this!"

John slapped me and paced around the room. Every time he went by the bathroom he shot me a disapproving look, before he resumed pacing again.

"John. Please, I didn't mean to-"

I've had enough of your drinking Sherlock. I'm going down to dinner. Get the steward to send you up some food.

"But please, John, I can explain …." The door slammed as John left the room.

I crawled to my feet and tried to regain my senses. I decided to go out looking for M, or at least traces of him.

I crept down the corridor, and made my way to the promenade deck. Perhaps if I sat on one of the deck chairs I may be able to catch a glimpse of 'M'.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, but could I borrow your wrap?"

"My wrap? Why, you're a man!"

There was no time to waste. I snatched the wrap out of her hands and ran to the other side of the deck.

"I'm terribly sorry!"

Now that I had a decent enough disguise, I could keep en eye out safely. _Who needs John anyway. He can enjoy his dinner with the Captain without me. _A man started to walk towards me. Bloody hell. It was Lestrade.

"Sherlock! Whatever is that disguise for?"

The moment he approached me a slender man hobbled across the deck. Upon hearing my name he paused. But a second later he darted away.

"Wait! Stop!" I ran after him, jumping over a few deck chairs. I was closing in on him, but then everything went black, and I felt a pain shoot up my spine.


	3. Chapter 3: Deception

When I came to, I noticed that I was back in my hotel room, on the bed. Lestrade was nowhere to be found, and I assumed that John was still eating dinner as he wasn't around either. I struggled to roll over onto my side. My head was throbbing. I gasped in pain.

"You're going to be fine, Sherlcok. Just try and relax." A blurred image of a woman approached the nightstand and pressed a cloth onto my forehead. _Wait a second, I know that woman. _

"Molly …." I reached out and tried to grab her arm but my body wouldn't let me. "Why are you ..."

"I-" Her voice trailed off and she backed away hurriedly from the bed. "I should go. If you need me I'll be in cabin 552 … second class."

"Wait, I want to-" but she had already disappeared down the hall.

I forced myself to sit up. I needed to think and quickly. Did he deliberately let me follow him? His face was familiar. I reached for my pipe and dug deep into my mind as I smoked.

An hour later, I awoke to the sound of John bursting into the room in a panic. "Sherlock! Get up!"

I moaned and pulled the covers over my head, but John grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of bed.

"Careful John!" I winced in pain.

"Sorry, but there's been a murder down in third class, and everyone is asking for you." He threw my jacket on the bed.

We rushed down to the scene of the crime. Tape had been placed in front of the stateroom to prevent the passengers in the hallway from entering. Ships officers were carrying a woman dripping in blood. Her belongings were strewn about and one of her roommates was weeping outside the door.

To my displeasure, Lestrade was already there. The woman was pressing him with questions.

"I need answers! Who did this to my sister? Don't just stand there! You should be looking for evidence!" She let out a loud sob and pressed a handkerchief to her nose.

Lestrade sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Not my division."

"But officer, you simply cannot-"

"I'd be happy to examine the stateroom, Lestrade." I walked towards him.

"But this is police property." He gestured to the yellow tape that was blocking entrance to the room.

The weeping woman stared at me with shining eyes. "Sherlock Holmes, is that really you? Or are me eyes deceiving me?" Her Irish accent was thick, and she was dressed rather poorly. She reached out her hand. "She was a great woman." she began to sob.

John tried to comfort her by putting his arm around his shoulder. "You're going to be fine. All you need is a sedative." The woman tried to brush him away but he continued to help her up the hallway.

Lestrade, who had watched the whole ordeal, began to remove the tape from the door. "Five minutes, that's all you get."

I started to examine the scattered objects, and was about to pick one of them up when Lestrade poked his head in the door.

"I'm assuming the murder weapon of choice was a knife. The amount of blood on the floor seems to suggest multiple stab wounds. I haven't had anyone examine the body …."

I dipped my hand into a blood spot on the floor and held it up to the light. "Quite the contrary, my dear Lestrade, it appears that this blood has been deliberately placed to make us believe that the woman died of stab wounds." I knelt and picked up a vile of red liquid.

"It appears that this was mixed with some substance to give it a blood-like appearance and consistency."

"But who would do such a thing?" Lestrade scratched his head.

"That is precisely what I am going to find out." Now if you'll excuse me. I walked up the hallway to where John was standing.

"I fetched a steward who was able to give the woman a new room. She should recover from her shock within the next day or two. What did you find?"

"I believe that whoever killed the woman placed the blood in the room after she was already dead. I found this-" I held up the vile "which suggests that the fake blood was placed down in a hurry. In the meantime, I need to see the body, and I know just the person to help me."

Molly slowly placed the sheet back over the body and peeled off her gloves. "The stab wounds were added after the woman had already died. It seems that the cause of death was caused by a lethal dosage of rat poison."

"Rat poison?" John shot me a puzzled look.

"Ah!" I rubbed my hands together. "John, when do you think the victim's sister can be questioned?"

"Now is as good a time as any."

"Splendid." I headed for the door and began to open it when I was suddenly confronted by Lestrade.

"No need to question the victim, Sherlock. The murderer has been captured."


	4. Chapter 4: A Little Negotiating

Five minutes later John and I were standing in the second class library, which was being used as a makeshift jail cell. The suspected murderer was chained to a post and struggling to break free, while some of the ships crew was holding him back.

"It wasn't me I tell you! It was him! He tried to frame me by hiding the knife in my room!" He shoved one of the crew members to the floor.

"Tell that to the judge when we land in New York." Lestrade stepped forward. "How else are you to disprove the fact that there was a bloody knife in your room?"

"Wait, Lestrade." I approached the man. "Who exactly is this man you were blabbing on about earlier?"

"I couldn't exactly tell you, sir. He came into my room this morning, sir, dressed all in black with a mask over his face and a cane in his hand. He offered me 200 pounds if I killed the dead woman, bless her heart, but I refused. And then when I came back up from eating my diner, I find I'm accused for a murder I didn't even commit!"

I paced back and forth. "Don't trouble yourself Mr-"

"Gregory."

"I believe that this man you are talking about is an old nemesis of mine, and a particularly intelligent one. I will try to get you out of this predicament, but I pray that you will not cause any more annoyance while you are held captive. Come Watson."

We exited the library and made our way up to our stateroom. "You see, John, I believe we are dealing with none other than Jim Moriarty himself. I shall try to find a way to capture him before he finds another victim, but for the moment I suggest we take a walk on the promenade."

We hadn't gotten very far when a woman hurriedly approached us. She held up her skirt as she ran, and was out of breath by the time she had reached us. "Mr. Holmes!"

"And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Angelica Graston. My husband hired you to keep an eye on me. Well, I suppose you're doing the best you can, but I don't feel very safe at the moment, if you don't mind me saying so."

John stared at her with a look that he only gives when he's interested in a woman. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again.

"Pray tell me, what has been bothering you?"

"It's that awful man who-" she lowered her voice "raped me last month." She wiped a tear from her eye and pulled back her hair to show a nasty scar that stretched from the back of her neck down her spine. "He left a note in my room." She pulled it out of her pocket.

_I have came here to finish what I started. Mr. Holmes will be rendered useless. M. _

"I'm frightened, Mr, Holmes. If there was only something you could do."

"We'll find a safe location for you until I've taken care of him. In the meantime, do join us for tea. I have a feeling that John would like to have a conversation with you." I chuckled, and noticed that John was turning red.

"John, are you ready?" I looked over at him, as he was stuffing his revolver into his jacket pocket.

"Yes." He opened the door to our room and shut it behind me.

We had devised a plan over dinner to locate the room that Moriarty was waiting in. If we found it, we were to notify the crew and wait until he arrived.

"Where should we look?"

"Third class. It seems to me that Moriarty is traveling in disguise, and I deduce that it would be easier for him to operate down there."

We crept down the stairwell leading into third class. Shouts and laughter could be heard from the dining saloon, which signaled that it was a good opportunity to search the cabins. After checking the first few doors in the proceeding hallway, we came upon a peculiar looking object in one of the staterooms.

"Whatever could that be?" John scratched his head in confusion.

I climbed the ladder to the top bunk. "It's a book. Written by none other than Moriarty himself." I showed it to John, who then proceeded to leaf through it.

"Why, here's an inscription." He pointed to some messy writing inside the front cover.

_Dear Mr. Holmes. _

_You may be catching on to my methods pretty quickly, but I must assure you that it will not be as simple as you think to catch me. As you read this inscription I will personally be preying upon my next victim – but of course you don't care, she told me so herself. _

_M._

I paused for a minute as I tried to comprehend what had just happened. Then I realized who his 'next victim' was going to be. I grabbed John by the arm and began to rush out of the cabin. "Quickly! If we don't get there soon enough it may be too late!"

John, panting behind me, tried desperately to keep up. But as we were turning the corner to go up the stairwell a man lurched out of the shadows and grabbed John by the throat. "Sherlock I-"

"John! John!" I lurched back down the stairs, desperately trying to find where the man had taken him, but there was no trace of either person. My heart beat in my chest and a pang of guilt rushed over me. I wasn't meant to feel this kind of emotion, but he was my only friend, the only person I could rely on …. _No, I must not think of that. He's a brave man, if he survived the war he should be able to escape. _

_I want to keep looking, to search every room until I find him. But I may lose my chance of stopping Moriarty from reaching his next victim. _

I rushed up the stairwell and ran into a rather rowdy Lestrade, fresh out of the second class dining saloon.

"Hello again, Sherlock" he blubbered.

I brushed past him and shouted behind me. "Hurry, man, if we don't act quickly the killer will take the life of his next victim!"

"Pshh, what makes you think that? We already caught the killer!" He stumbled up the hallway and began to sing an old battle song from the war. I scoffed in disgust and turned the corner. I hurriedly found the room I was looking for, and paused as I turned the handle.

"Well hello, Sherlock." Moriarty, who had now gotten rid of his disguise, smiled back at me. His eyes were shining. "Have a seat." He gestured to a chair in the center of the room. I tried to contain my emotions, but after seeing what he had already done I seethed with anger.

"You bastard!" I jumped out of my chair.

"Easy now, Sherlock. I was hoping you would be able to negotiate with me, calmly. But just as a precaution-" he paused and pulled a revolver out of his bag. "There. Now if you make any sort of upsetting movement-" he pointed the gun at the victim on the bed. "She goes."


	5. Chapter 5: Luck Of The Draw

I tensed up and gripped the edges of the chair. Moriarty took a step closer to the bed.

"I only want to know where Mrs. Graston is hiding. If you tell me I'll let you and Molly go free. But if she's not where you say she is …."

"Sherlock, please! Don't listen to him!" Molly desperately tried to sit up on the bed. Her shirt was torn and there were scratches all over her chest and face. Her arms had been bound and it was clear that she had received several punches.

"Trying to get him to listen, are you? He only cares about himself and his sniveling little partner, John. Isn't that right, Sherlock? Would you risk your reputation for this?" He picked Molly up and threw her off the bed.

"Molly, I-"

Moriarty laughed and stepped over to the door. "Perhaps you need a little more motivation." He opened the door and a dark figure with a crooked nose stepped in. The man tugged on something and within a few seconds John was forced into the room. He gave me a pained look and I desperately racked my brain for an escape route.

"Now if you please, tell me where she's hiding."

"Never."

"Not even in return for John's life?" He made a gesture to the man and he immediately placed a gun against John's head.

I paused, and tried to weigh the consequences. I didn't want any harm to come to John, but I couldn't risk my reputation, either.

"I'll tell you where she is." I got up out of my chair and turned to face Moriarty. "She's in the cargo hold, under the seat in the Model T."

I hoped my detailed description would convince him that that was the true location of Mrs. Graston. Otherwise my entire plan would fall to pieces.

"Very well. I will go and investigate this location myself." He went over to the bed and stood beside Molly. "Get out."

She scampered out of the room the best she could, tripping on the way out. She tried to get up again and managed to make it out of the room. Moriarty laughed and turned to the mysterious man. "Shoot him."

"But sir, do you really-"

"I SAID SHOOT HIM!." Moriarty was turning red with frustration. Anger welled up inside me. I smacked him in the face. He seemed shocked for a moment, but then he returned to his usual, cool composure.

"You can't always get what you want, Sherlock." He smiled and turned to leave the room.

John tried to yell but his mouth was gagged. The strange man cocked his gun and prepared to fire. I had to do something. I leaped in front of the man, just as a loud bang filled the room. Watson had fallen to the floor, and it was clear that he had been hurt. Blood was gushing out of his chest. Thank god the bullet had avoided his head.

I tried to remain calm and focused on tying the stranger to the bed until the ship's crew could arrive. I wanted to kill him, but I knew that revenge wouldn't get me any further.

"Sherlock …." John tried to finish his sentence but his lips wouldn't move any further. I untied him and tried to further asses the damage.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" I shouted.

"... If I don't make it …..." Footsteps could be heard up the hall.

"... I just want to thank you for …..." He struggled to keep going.

"For what, John! Keep talking! Help is coming, you just need to hang on!"

A pair of stewards entered the room. They immediately crouched beside John, who kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to force the words out. One of the stewards had a medical kit, and was examining the wound. I looked over anxiously, and it was some time before one of them turned to me with a solemn look on his face.

"He's blacked out. There may still be some life left in him but we have to operate right away." They began lifting him off the floor and into a stretcher that some other stewards had brought into the room. I was crushed. I tried to regain my composure but my mind was weakened by the flood of memories rushing through my mind. We had solved so many cases together, so many that would have been left unsolved had he not assisted me …..

I followed the stewards down to the ship's hospital. "Is he going to make it through the operation, doctor?" I asked hurriedly as John was being prepared for surgery.

"It's hard to say. We have to remove the bullet safely and determine how much damage has been done. Now if you don't mind, perhaps it would be best if you waited outside."

I exited the building and sat in a nearby stairwell. I thought I was alone until I heard someone sit down beside me. It was Molly.

"You should get some rest."

"Well, I thought you might want someone to talk to, because of what happened with ….." she trailed off.

"I was perfectly happy sitting alone." I retorted. But after seeing the sad expression on her face and after thinking about what Moriarty had said I felt guilty.

"Perhaps you could tell me what he did to you before I arrived."

"He … I don't know if I really want to say it." She looked away.

"You must."

"He- He raped me. It's my fault, I trusted him. He came to me shortly after I had told you the cause of death, of the victim, and he said that I should never have trusted you, that you were just using me for your own good. He told me that he could make me a lot happier than you ever could …. and I believed him. To be honest, I was tired of chasing after you and doing everything you wanted me to without ever getting anything in return. I invited him back to my room, and everything was going fine at first but then he started beating me and shoving me against the walls …."

A tear ran down her cheek and she disappeared up the stairwell, leaving me alone.

* * *

I waited another long, solitary hour before I heard any news of John. To occupy myself I tried to develop a plan to catch Moriarty by surprise. He would have already investigated the cargo hold by now, and realized that I had tricked him. I must be careful, for my own sake. In order to catch him Mrs. Graston must be used as bait ….

I paused as one of the nurses working in the hospital slowly approached me. "Mr. Holmes."

"Yes?" I came down to meet her. I was anxious and worried, but I clung on to the last shred of hope left inside me as she began to open her mouth.

"I'm afraid Mr. Watson is … no longer with us."


End file.
